


The Hands That Sow

by TheBuggu



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Robutts kissing and stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-19 23:10:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2406341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBuggu/pseuds/TheBuggu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ratchet constantly overworks himself. Drift gets worried about him. </p><p>(A fic for Ceryskitty on tumblr for winning one of my giveaway prizes.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hands That Sow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CerysKitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CerysKitty/gifts).



> Ahhhh, I've never wrote Dratchet before, but this was actually really fun and cute to write. :3c And, I had a lot of freedom writing this too, so that's always fun!

“I think you need to take a break,” Drift announced, making Ratchet jump in surprise. He glanced up from the datapad he was reading—containing all the medical charts of every single Lost Light passenger—and vented out.

“How long were you standing there?” Ratchet asked with a dry tone and pinched at the bridge between his optics, leaning back against his seat. The medic slumped down against the chair and stared at Drift.

Drift responded with a growing smile and walked forward; with the medbay door snapping closed behind him after the doorway was unblocked again. “Well, long enough to see you mumbling and trying to use your chair as a berth?” he suggested with a laugh.

Ratchet frowned and quickly sat up, gazing at the messy desk before him. It was covered in layers of scattered charts, files, and writing instruments. “I was resting my optics...” Ratchet muttered back and began to organize the clutter on his desk. He may have needed all of the varying files for reference, but he was going to at least make sure it was neatly categorized clutter.

“Ratchet?” Drift softly called and continued stepping closer. “Your shift ended nearly an hour ago.”

“Oh.”

Ratchet activated his internal chronometer and winced. Damn.

“It's alright. I figured you were caught up in a lot of work,” Drift replied and placed a servo against Ratchet's shoulder. “So, let's go!” he exclaimed in a cheery voice.

“Kid, I have too much work,” Ratchet grumbled.

“Don't worry, Ratchet!” First Aid suddenly pipped up from his own desk. “I can watch the medbay. We haven't had any patients for a while anyway, so go on.”

Ratchet's optics twitched when he noticed the waving motion First Aid produced with the back of his servo. The medic sighed and rolled his helm back against his shoulders. His neck plating was sore from being strained, due to how long he was arched over his desk to read file after file. His entire frame ached from a long shift. He drooped in defeat and slowly pushed up from his seating, feeling too exhausted to bothering arguing with the other two mechs.

“Fine. You win,” Ratchet answered in a gruff tone and stood up.

Drift chuckled and leaned closer, gently pressing his lips against Ratchet's cheek. He then glanced over Ratchet's shoulder and nodded to First Aid. “Thanks for alerting me,” he murmured.

“Oh, so it's like that?” Ratchet asked with an annoyed tone and huffed. He begrudgingly turned and began to walk to the doorway, sending a displeased glare at First Aid. “I'll remember this.”

First Aid merely laughed and glanced back down to the files on his own desk. “Ambulon and I would be willing to watch the medbay, so you can take a shift off.”

Ratchet paused mid-step and eyed the assistant medic. “What.”

“Consider it professional advice, Ratchet.” First Aid's visor lit up after he replied.

“Hrrm. Nice try,” Ratchet snorted back.

First Aid tilted his helm and his optics dimmed slightly, as if he was frowning. It was amazing how expressive one could be without a mouth. “Ratchet. You need the time off. I can see it. Ambulon can see it.”

The red and white medic threw his servos up in exasperation.

“We can take it to Rodimus. I'm sure the captain wouldn't mind ordering you to officially take a break.”

Ratchet scoffed and resumed walking. “Don't even think about bringing it up to Rodimus. He'll never let me live it down. Especially since I'm the one who orders bed rest.”

First Aid waved him and Drift off as they stepped out of the medbay. “Enjoy the mandatory time off!” his voice echoed out after them through the doorway.

Ratchet grunted. He didn't doubt First Aid's or Ambulon's abilities as capable medics. But, it just felt so...wrong when he thought about taking some time off and not being in the medbay.

They made their way to Drift's room in silence for a time. Most mechs were already in recharge or hanging out at Swerve's bar, so it was not like they would run into any unwanted visitors—an overcharged Whirl, especially—during their walk.

“I hope you're not _too_ angry at me,” Drift eventually said as they walked side by side together. 

Ratchet's expression softened from the usual scowl he wore. Blue optics darted down to his servos. No. Not his own. They flexed several times as he stared down at them.  _Your friend is upset_ . Words forever imprinted in his mind.

“I...I'm not,” Ratchet admitted as he glanced over to Drift. “But, you know how much I work. I need to.”

Drift sighed as they both arrived at his suite door. He turned to face Ratchet with a concerned frown. “Ratchet, you're a great medic. But, why push yourself like this? You constantly work over your shift. And...lately I've been worried about you overdoing it.” 

Ratchet closed his optics as Drift's words sank in. Servos flexed several more times. He suddenly felt a heavy pang of guilt clouding over him. “It doesn't matter what I want, Drift. Or how I feel. I'm simply making up for what Pharma has done. I'm not a spiritual mech. But...having these hands? I have to atone for all the lives they've taken.”

He could still remember the madness in Pharma's expression; could still see Pharma falling from Delphi—both in a literal and figurative sense. How he betrayed the medic's oath by resorting to murder. All for gathering transformation cogs. 

Drift seemed stunned by the response. He didn't respond to Ratchet and simply keyed open the controls for his door and watched the medic. Ratchet stepped into Drift's suite first; Drift followed after him. 

After entering Drift's suite, he wasted no time in approaching the berth and sitting down against it. And just as quickly, Drift followed behind him after keying in the command for his door to close. He sat beside Ratchet and leaned against the medic. Servos trailed against his shoulder and kneaded and rubbed them soothingly. 

“Ratchet,” Drift began, gently placing a kiss along the underside of his jaw, “You don't have to push yourself. You have no control over anyone’s actions but your own. And there is no reason to feel guilt, especially when you were not the one at fault.” 

Ratchet said nothing, but still relaxed against Drift's touch and slumped against the other mech.

“And just by continuing to be such a caring doctor and taking care of your patients, it's more than enough to make up for what's been done by Pharma.” Drift grabbed Ratchet's arms, lifting both servos up. Drift's lips brushed against his knuckles. “These are _your_ hands and you use them to perform such great acts as a doctor. Don't ever think otherwise.”

Ratchet blinked and scooted back on the berth. He laid down and lightly tugged on Drift's arm as an indication to follow. And Drift did just that. One arm slipped under Ratchet's helm and pulled him to rest against Drift's chestplate. Ratchet made a soft vent out and listened to Drift's beating spark. Its thrumming was...mesmerizing. 

“I'm sorry. I'm so tired,” Ratchet said after simply listening to the fluxing rhythm of the other mech's spark for a few moments. As much as he enjoyed their sessions together, he was telling the truth. His frame ached from being so overworked. And sometimes, it didn't hurt to just enjoy one another's presence.

Drift chuckled softly and placed a kiss against the tip of Ratchet's helm, giving affectionate attention to his chevron. He completely understood. “Rest. It's alright.” 

Ratchet made a hum in response and inched closer to Drift. Eventually, any traces of sadness dissolved away from the medic's face. He moved his arms around Drift's waist. The two embraced each other tenderly. “Where would I be without you checking up on me?” he asked with a bemused tone. 

“Still 'resting your optics' in the medbay?” Drift asked with a teasing wink. 

Ratchet snorted again. “Yeah. Probably. Why do I imagine that First Aid changed the lock code by now to enforce that mandatory”--Ratchet emphasized with air quotes--“time off?”

Drift giggled and dipped his servos against Ratchet's hip, continuing his relaxing massage. “Because it's what you'd do if the roles were reversed. First Aid's learned a few things from you, I've noticed.”

Ratchet nodded in agreement and stretched out on the berth before pulling back against Drift. “Maybe I will do just that then,” he mused and moved a servo under Drift's chin, tilting it down. A thumb traced across Drift's bottom lip before he leaned forward and joined their lips together in a passionate kiss. 

Drift softly moaned into the kiss, but quickly pulled back and patted Ratchet's cheek. “Let's pick this up after we've both had the chance to sleep.”

Ratchet smirked. “You're right. Since my schedule is completely free as of now.” He closed his optics. “And...thanks, kid.”

He felt one last kiss against the plating just above his optics before drifting into recharge.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Ever since I've read the Delphi arc in MTMTE, part of me has always felt like Ratchet has hidden guilt about using Pharma's hands and works really hard to make up for all that Pharma has done.


End file.
